12) The Devil cascades

I wouldn't necessarily say that I grew up a sheltered life.  I mean I had running water and electricity.  I lived my life in suburbs not farm yards or dungeons, so I had family gatherings and television.  I just feel as though my life experiences have been deluded in the beginning and as a result my whole outlook has been misshaped.

Our family has never been one to express emotion.  A conversation is almost too much to ask for when it involves anything more substancial than the news or the weather.  If it has to do with an inanimate object, the story sharing and laughs explode through the ceiling.  If you find yourself at a crossroads in your life you best not waste your time.  Noone seems to be listening.  Or an anger comes out and is forced upon you like you were raping baby bunnys. 
Holidays in our family seem like a meeting for the first time.  Like a reunion taking place after 20 years of solitude.  How's the Delorian treating your gass mileage?  Any big vacation plans for the summer of '69?  Have you heard of this new plastic?  What grade are you in now?  Babies?  Pets?  New shoes?  If alcohol wasn't involved with our family I'm pretty sure we would spend most of our time standing in line at the bathroom waiting in mumbles for a moment of unawkward silence on the toilet.  Take a moment to imagine your family in that same line.  How many half smiles and eye squints are shot from one to the next?  How many arm rubs and watch glances?  Or maybe your family is healthy.  You should describe your family bathroom lines in the comment section...
I guess it didn't help that I went to a catholic grade school for the early nine years of my life.  The same 25 faces will forever be ingrained into my soul.  The classrooms held 30 desks.  The teachers, for the most part, were all middle aged or older white women.  The hallways were narrow and lined with hooks for jackets and backpacks.  My routine as a child was monotenous.  I fell in line with the rest of the class until I realized that I had nothing in common with anyone else there.  I believe it was around 4th grade when I noticed something happening inside the never airconditioned classrooms.  The boys kept looking at the girls in this new and confusing way.  It was almost the same way I had been looking at the boys.  I wasn't sure what to make of it.  I did know, however, to never mention it.  For nine years I was told how beautiful and all loving God was.  That we are all God's children and he loves us all unconditionally.  Unless...God's grace is never ending, unless...God will never foresake you, unless...He is everything and everywhere and he is all forgiving, unless...
This was extremely confusing for a young tot just growing into his ideals and sexuality.  In my understanding of our God, He hated me.  Nothing I could do would ever change that.  I thought that lusting after the girls like the other boys did would help but I felt deep down inside that I was actually making it worse by lying to Him and myself.  So, I did what every confused and alone gay boy does.  I surpressed all my natural feelings and grew into something completely different.  Ever so slowly I was falling into this underwater state of depression.  I felt my soul shutting down.  This, I found out, is bad in a catholic school.  Kids with these sorts of dark feelings get sent to have some one-on-one time with the principle and then the priests.  Hours upon hours I spent confessing to the same Lord that wasn't listening to me in the first place.  I actually felt like my DNA was pulling apart.  I needed to stop this from happening.  So, I became the class clown.  If I wasn't going to fit in with any of the "normal" kids and I most certainly wanted to stop meeting with the Lord, I would need to become something transparent, the entertainment.  My thought was, if I was standing infront of the class with all their eyes on me that I would somehow blend into the blackboard.  Make 'em laugh. 

Making them laugh turned out to be a blessing and a curse.  I was the boy everyone wanted to sit next to in class to make math go by quicker, but I was never the boy called to hang out.  My personality stemmed into this organism that took over people's lives.  You could almost choke on it if you remained too close for too long.  I didn't know how to turn it off.  I was never taught how to make my real feelings interlock with my new personality.  It didn't help that at home I was still the only boy in a family of all girls.  The footballs that came every Christmas seemed to mock me under their finely wrapped plastic Wal-Mart bags.  The only outlet I had growing up was my pillow.  I named him Christian.